


The sweetest of lessons

by oddlyfamiliar



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Ass Slapping, Barebacking, Evelyn Sanders is all of us, F/M, MIKE LAWSON HUMAN DISASTER, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Post-Season/Series 01, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Spanking, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:49:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9646931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddlyfamiliar/pseuds/oddlyfamiliar
Summary: Mike tries not to think about the fact that he puts more effort into helping Baker through rehab than he puts into making his relationship with his ex-wife work. He tells himself that it’s just because he wants the team to do well, but he’s honestly not surprised that things with Rachel don’t last.Despite that, everything’s going pretty much okay, right up until he discovers that Ginny Baker wants Mike to put her over his knee and spank her.Because once he knows that? Mike can’t think about anything else.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “I would alter nothing of the journey made for it is in this road travelled that the sweetest of lessons are learnt.”  
> ― **Truth Devour** , Wantin
> 
>  
> 
> This fic is for the lovely [greeneyedsarcasm](https://greeneyedsarcasm.tumblr.com/)! Hopefully you like it.
> 
> After the reveal, I’ll update to thank the amazing people that helped with beta work and general cheerleading (don’t want to give away my identity too soon!)
> 
> **Update:** I owe a massive thanks to both [lauriverkatiefan87](http://lauriverkatiefan87.tumblr.com/) and [tiaraofsapphires](http://tiaraofsapphires.tumblr.com/) for putting up with me spamming them with sections of this fic (and forcing them to make decisions for me :P). And this fic wouldn't be halfway decent without the amazing contributions from [pitchforginny](http://pitchforginny.tumblr.com/) and [maybetwice](https://maybetwice.tumblr.com/), both of whom helped me with The Baseball (you guys, seriously, so much ♥)

There are brief moments where Mike regrets that the trade to the Cubs fell through. They’re few and far between; he’s always intended on being a Padre for life, and he does genuinely love his team. But most of those moments of regret revolve around one person.

Ginny Baker.

Because if he’d been traded? Well, for a start, they wouldn’t have been interrupted on that warm night back at the tail end of August. And if they hadn’t been interrupted, then he knows for damn sure that he would have kissed her.

And he’d bet good money that he would have taken her back to his place, and kept her in his bed for as long as he could.

They might have even been able to keep it going. Started a long distance relationship. Who knows? The most important thing, though, is that they wouldn’t have this… this _tension_ between them. This _almost_. This _what could have been_.

It’s driving him goddamn crazy.

Back then, he’d tried to convince himself that it was nothing, just a ridiculous crush on a pretty girl with talent. He’d tried to convince himself that he was still in love with Rachel. He’d tried to convince himself that _Ginny_ was nothing more than _Baker_. Just another rookie.

Six weeks into their rekindled relationship, Rachel had cornered him and demanded to know who he was screwing around with. She’d been convinced that his heart wasn’t in it, that he was cheating on her, and that he was doing it to punish her.

He wasn’t trying to punish her, he hadn’t been cheating on her…

...but she had been right that his heart wasn’t in it. He’d been putting more time into getting Baker back on her feet and through rehab than he’d been working on his relationship with his ex-wife. The fact that he’d been hiding that from Rachel? Yeah, that should have been the first sign that things weren’t going to end up as a happily ever after for them.

She was gone the next day.

He hasn’t dated anyone since. No one night stands, no hook-ups, nothing. It’s not like he’s attempting a life of celibacy or anything, and it sure as shit isn’t because he’s saving himself for… someone; he just doesn’t wanna do that any more. He’s been there, done that, probably has the t-shirt somewhere. Mike just wants to focus on the game. He’s been talking seriously with his physio and his specialist and his trainer… and then he’s been talking seriously with Al. He knows he doesn’t have long left, even if they do move him to first base. Mike’s pretty certain he can see this season out, but beyond that? He’s honestly not sure.

So he wants to give it everything he’s got, no distractions. He works hard and fixes his fucked up friendship with Blip, gets the team back on side, and helps Baker through her rehab. Because that’s what a good captain does. And Mike is a damn good captain.

It actually seems like his plan is working, too. The Padres finish spring training with some of the best results they've had in years; the team’s working well together and that’s translating into some decent games and solid wins. He’s even been playing a little first base. He’s not exactly ecstatic about it, but he knows there’s logic behind it; Duarte needs to improve his skills as catcher and Mike’s knees honestly need the break occasionally. But still, the whole team finishes training feeling pretty positive. 

So that’s why he’s more than a little bit blindsided when everything goes to shit, barely two months into the regular season.

All because of twelve words.

\---

“C’mon, Lawson, is that all you got?” Baker calls out, her tone smug. The rest of the guys standing around the batting cage start snickering, but Mike tries to tune them out. “I thought you were supposed to be a potential Hall-of-Famer? A twelve year old could knock those balls further than that!”

He grits his teeth and swings. The thwack of the ball hitting his bat sounds good to his ears and he glances over at Baker as she watches it sail over the fence. “Is that better, your highness?” he smirks.

Baker winks at him. She actually fucking winks at him, and he has to remind himself that they’re surrounded by people. “It’s a start.”

Mike can hear Al muttering behind him, barely catches something about ‘kids’ and ‘flirting’, before he realizes he doesn’t want to know, and instead focuses on the next pitch. 

He hits three homers in a row before Skip pulls him, says he’s warm enough, and as he walks by Baker, he can’t help nudging his shoulder against hers. “Was that good enough for you?”

“Eh,” she says, turning to face him as he keeps walking away, “I’ve seen better.”

Mike turns, but keeps walking backwards. The grin on her face lights up her expression and makes his chest feel tight. He points his bat at her and narrows his eyes. “It’s like you want me to put you over my knee, Baker.”

Twelve words.

That’s all it takes for him to fuck everything up.

Baker freezes, her lips part as she gasps in a quiet breath, and Mike’s just close enough to swear that her pupils dilate.

It hits him like lightning. He knows with absolute certainty that she’s aroused. 

She’s turned on. 

By the thought of Mike putting her over his knee and spanking her.

Before he can do or say a thing, Blip bumps into Baker’s back and slings an arm around her shoulders, breaking her out of her stupor and dragging her along as he walks straight towards Mike. The moment is gone and Baker is purposefully avoiding looking at him, but Mike knows what he saw.

He makes it through the game without thinking about it. He makes it through the team’s celebrations in the bar later that night without thinking about it. He even manages two separate conversations with Baker without thinking about it.

But when he gets into bed, the sheets cool against his skin, he can’t think about anything else. She was aroused. The thought of bending over Mike’s knee and having him spank her ass is something that turns Ginny Baker on.

He thinks about it some more. About what it would mean to have her sprawled out across him, her ass bare… would she shiver in anticipation? Would she moan as he slapped her perfect cheeks? Would she be wet?

Mike wraps his hand around his dick, already hard and twitching in desperation, and he jerks off thinking about whether or not he could get her to drip down her own thighs, just from spanking her. 

He comes embarrassingly quickly.

\---

Baker seems to be avoiding him the next day. It takes a couple of hours for Mike to notice, mostly because he’s so busy avoiding _her_ , but once he realizes, it takes everything in him to not immediately track her down. He’s not sure what it is about her that turns him into a stupid kid, like all he wants to do is pull on her pigtails until she notices him, but he stamps down the urge.

There’s no avoiding each other during the game though, not when it’s her start. Everything’s fine, mostly, through the first four innings. Baker doesn’t look at him longer than is necessary to do her job, and he very carefully doesn’t think about the fact that last night he came all over himself while picturing her naked and across his lap.

It’s not until they’re heading back over to the dugout, Baker two steps in front of him, that his day starts to go sideways. The guys are waiting for them, most of their arms up ready for some celebratory high-fives, except Sonny’s apparently forgotten about the unwritten rule the team enacted not long after Baker joined the team. 

He slaps her right on the ass.

Mike freezes, his eyes snapping up to see what her reaction is, half expecting her to be outraged, half expecting… _something_ , given how obviously turned on she’d been at even the suggestion yesterday.

But there’s nothing. She laughs, thumping her fist against Sonny’s bicep, and keeps moving along, taking a seat on the bench.

Mike realizes that he’s frowning, so he quickly clears his expression and concentrates on taking off his gear while the guys get ready to bat. He’s confused though. He must have misunderstood something yesterday. She clearly _doesn’t_ have a thing for having her ass smacked.

He’s not sure why he’s disappointed about that.

Baker laughs at something down at the far end of the bench, and Mike finds himself smiling at the sound before he catches himself. He really needs to get a grip, because he’s behaving like a fucking idiot. He sits down, far away from Baker, and ignores the weird looks from the guys. Then he ignores the fact that they’re so used to seeing him and Baker sitting together, that it’s apparently A Thing when they’re not. Mike’s pretty much ignoring a lot of things right now.

It’s not long before he’s up at bat, the guys all pressing up against the edge of the dugout to watch, Baker halfway up the stairs as usual. He’s painfully aware of _how aware_ he is of her presence. Mike strides up to the plate, eyes Salvi, who made it to second, and then focuses on the pitcher in front of him. In his peripheral vision, he can just about make out Baker, which makes him think about how she was trying to rile him up yesterday. He thinks about how obviously pleased she gets when he lands a solid hit and knocks it over the fence. 

He thinks about how much she might like it if he lands a solid hit on her ass.

Mike knows deep down in his gut that the first pitch is _his_. He swings and feels victorious when his bat connects, the sound thwacking perfectly in his ears. He already knows it’s gonna be a good one and he’s right. It’s deep in center-left field and over the fence, _long_ over the fence in fact. He can hear the crowd going crazy, but it’s not until he’s back at the plate, Salvi greeting him with both arms wide, that Mike glances up at the board and realizes he’s set a personal best distance.

“Who knew you still had it in you, old man?” Salvi yells in his ear over the noise of the crowd, so Mike pushes him away as they both jog over to the dugout. Sal just laughs and smacks at his ass, so Mike does what he always does. He slaps him right the hell back.

Except he catches Baker’s eye when he does it, and there’s that look back on her face. Her mouth is open, her lips full, and her tongue peeking out slightly to moisten the bottom one as she catches it in her teeth. Her eyes are burning into him and she looks flushed.

Mike tries not to react, bumps his forearm against hers in the exact same way he has a hundred times before, then switches his helmet for his cap and goes to sit on the bench.

There’s a strange restlessness running through his body, like he’s been hit by a dozen static shocks, one after the other. It’s not that she’s got a general thing for having her ass slapped, otherwise she’d have reacted to Sonny smacking her butt.

It’s _Mike_.

She’s got a very _specific_ thing about Mike slapping asses. And by the looks of it, she really wants him to slap hers.

And as luck would have it, that’s an interest that Mike definitely shares.

\---

Mike doesn’t do a damn thing about the knowledge he suddenly has. There’s nothing he _can_ do. Baker made it perfectly clear last September that she’s calling the shots on this, and she shut it down. Shut the possibility of _them_ down. And unless she says or does something to change that, then that’s the way it’s gonna be.

He tries to keep things normal. He plays ball like normal, he laughs with the guys like normal, he goes over hitters with Baker like normal. He very deliberately ignores the news coverage over the next few days; it’s a constant barrage of speculation over why the eight-month relationship between Baker and that tech guy suddenly ended. One reporter even goes so far as to suggest that he’d proposed and Baker had rejected him. Mike also ignores the smug sense of satisfaction that curls in his stomach at the thought of that.

He definitely ignores the time he accidentally overhears Evelyn commenting that Baker’s better off without that guy, because he clearly couldn’t handle her. 

He doesn’t think about what that means. He doesn’t think about how much of a handful she might be, both literally and figuratively. He doesn’t jack off at least once a day to a variety of thoughts; to the image of her straddling his lap, bouncing on his dick, riding him hard while he just tries to hold on, or to the thought of pushing her over the arm of his couch, pulling her ever-present leggings and panties down around her ankles and spanking her ass until she’s begging him to fuck her. 

He ends up taking a lot of cold showers.

On the plus side, he’s playing better than he has in years. So apparently all the sexual frustration he’s feeling is good for something. He puts a lot of his excess energy into working out, doing a little more on the bike than he used to, but he’s sensible about it; he doesn’t push his knees beyond what they’re capable of, and he’s careful about not dropping too much weight. Just a couple of pounds, enough to take a little strain off his joints, but not so much as to lose any of his power.

Naturally, the guys all give him shit for it.

“Hey cap, you gonna tell us your secret then?” Sonny shouts over the chatter in the clubhouse as the guys all get ready for the game. Mike’s changing his shirt quickly, but he pauses when the guys start whistling at him.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Dusty pipes up from his seat next to Sonny. “The new look,” he nods to Mike’s torso, “you trying to reclaim your lost youth or something?”

Mike glances down at his chest. Sure, he’s lost a few pounds, and that’s helped to highlight his abs and pecs a little more, but he really doesn’t look that much different. He’s still bulky, but he’s actually feeling pretty okay about that. He looks good. He looks back up at the guys and his eyes catch on Baker, sitting quietly on one of the sofas, her eyes caught on his chest and her bottom lip between her teeth.

He tries not to puff up his chest, just to show off for her.

“Aww, I didn’t know you guys were so obsessed with my body,” he grins, then pulls his clean shirt on. “I can autograph some pictures for you, if you wanna hang ‘em in your cubbies. Y’just gotta promise not to kiss them too much, or you’ll wear them out.”

Sonny winks at him and blows a kiss across the room, but Mike’s only half aware of it. The rest of him is still aware that Baker hasn’t taken her eyes off him yet.

“C’mon, man,” Salvi joins in, “you can tell us. You got a new lady friend? Someone giving you a good workout?”

Blip cracks up, his laughter loud and mocking. “You kidding me? Have you seen how far he’s hitting homers?” The guys nod, frowning, but hanging on Blip’s every word. Mike has a bad feeling about where he’s going with this. “There’s no way he’s got a new girl. _That_ , my friends, is the power of sexual frustration.”

There are times when Mike struggles to remember why Blip is his best friend. The rest of the guys crack up, and when he turns to glare at Blip, all he gets is a shit-eating grin in return.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Duarte laughs, leaning back against the sofa Baker is sitting on, “I wondered why you were choking your bat.” He mimes the actions, deliberately making it look even more sexual than gripping a bat already does. Mike rolls his eyes as the laughter increases, but then Baker does that thing where she touches the corner of her mouth, her lips parted, and for a good five seconds he forgets that anyone else is even in the room. 

Al appears from his office, obviously to give them the heads up that they need to get their asses in gear, but the guys are too busy laughing and making a variety of obscene gestures to pay any attention. “Hey!” he yells, clearly baffled about what’s going on, “Quit playing with yourselves so we can go play ball.”

“Yeah, Lawson,” Butch smirks as everyone starts to make their way towards the field, “quit playing with yourself so we can go play ball.”

Mike sighs. “I’m gonna think up a really terrible punishment for every single one of you.”

Baker appears by his side suddenly, but keeps her eyes forward. “We have to look at that thing on your face every day; surely that’s punishment enough?”

There’s snickering all around them, the guys obviously loving that she’s joining in with torturing Mike, but he just slants a look at her. “You love the beard, Baker.”

She scrunches up her nose at him as they emerge from the tunnel, but when she speaks, her voice is just quiet enough that the rest of the guys can’t hear her. “It might be growing on me.”

His head snaps around to stare at her, but she’s already walking away from him. Mike tries to focus on the game, their last one against the Rockies before they travel to Phoenix, but a tiny part of his mind keeps circling back to the way she kept staring at his chest, and the fact that she’s finally admitting to not hating the beard.

Mike tries not to get his hopes up that things could change between them, sooner than he’d dreamed.

\---

He wakes up the next morning to a text from Blip.

_Lunch at ours. Non-negotiable. Evy will hunt u down if u don’t turn up @ 2:30_

It’s not how he planned to spend his afternoon before heading to the park to get on the team bus, but he doesn’t actually have any food in, and it’s been awhile since he’s had someone make him a meal.

He texts back: _Understood. Need me to bring anything?_

When Blip replies to say he only needs to bring himself, Mike heaves himself out of bed and gets started on his morning routine. He works out, eats his usual avocado on toast, then has a shower while he jerks off to the thought of fucking Baker in front of a mirror so they can both see themselves. The fantasy changes each day, but it’s become a necessary part of his routine. It’s either that, or risk getting hard pretty much the second he sees her.

Afterwards, he gets his bag ready for heading to Arizona; he figures he may as well go straight to the bus from Blip’s. He only needs to pack for a couple of days, because the next two series, against the Royals and Reds, are both at home.

Once he’s done, Mike realizes that he still has an hour to kill before he needs to leave. He briefly entertains the thought of texting Baker, just to see what she’s doing, but he stomps on the urge. He’s going to see her in a couple of hours, hell, they’ll probably end up sitting together on the bus, probably the plane too, so he’ll just look desperate if he can’t even go a few hours without talking to her.

He plays around on his phone for a while, deliberately avoiding any article that has Baker’s name and the word ‘relationship’ anywhere near it, before he finally grabs his bag and gets in the car. He arrives at Blip and Ev’s exactly on time, and is greeted at the door by Baker.

Of course. Because the universe is out to fuck with him.

“Baker,” he grunts, completely thrown at seeing her a few hours before he’d expected to.

“Lawson,” she raises an eyebrow at his attitude, then steps aside so he can walk through the door.

“I, er, didn’t know you’d be here, too,” he says, following her through into the open plan kitchen-diner.

“Free food,” she responds, the ‘ _duh_ ’ clear from her tone.

He nods, because he knows damn well that nothing gets between Baker and her food. Mike steps around the kitchen island to greet the hosts, slapping Blip on the back and giving Ev a hug and kiss on her cheek, then he high fives the boys as they run through and straight out the backdoor.

“Do you need any help with anything?” Mike asks, trying to look relaxed but his entire body is tense and aware of Baker standing three feet to the side of him.

“Nope, we’re all good,” Ev replies as she grabs containers from the fridge. “You two can supervise the boys while they set the table, though,” she points to him and Baker, and even though he wants to stay where there’s the buffer of other people, he’s not an idiot. He’s not gonna argue with Ev when she’s given him a direct order. 

Even if that means he’s going to be left essentially alone with Baker for the first time since his discovery.

He can be cool about this.

He follows her out into the backyard where the boys are already setting the table, then hovers pretty uselessly nearby and tries to be at least somewhat subtle while watching her every move.

“Is there enough time to play, Aunt Ginny?” Gabriel, at least Mike _thinks_ he’s Gabriel, asks as the boys finish setting the table.

“Sorry, Gabe,” she replies, slinging her arm around his shoulders when he runs over to her and wraps his arms around her waist. Mike pretends not to be jealous of an eight year old, while silently congratulating himself on guessing correctly which twin he is. “Your mom would kill me if we all disappeared to play games again.”

“Pleeeeease,” Marcus adds to his brother’s pleading, as he joins him and flings himself at Baker. 

An idle thought passes through Mike’s mind, of her playing with their kids, laughing with them, kicking their asses at video games because she’s way too competitive to let them win. He quickly shuts it down, leans against the low wall surrounding the patio, and turns slightly to look down the rest of the yard so he doesn’t get caught staring.

“You can’t try to break me with those puppy eyes,” he hears Baker laugh at them, “no pouting either! Now go on, your ride’ll be here soon.”

Mike turns back just as the boys run back into the house. Now he really is all alone with her.

Ginny walks over to the large, round table and takes a seat. Somehow, even though she’s in the shade of the awning, she still seems to glow like she’s in direct sunshine. He’s not sure how she does that. She must catch him staring because she gestures vaguely towards the doors.

“The boys are staying with a friend tonight,” she says, obviously assuming he was wondering.

He wasn’t. “Right,” he responds, then finds himself at a complete and utter loss for words. The only thing rolling around in his brain is the image of her across his knee, and he obviously can’t blurt that out. He grasps for anything else to say as he joins her at the table, sitting in the seat next to her. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“Yup,” she bobs her head up and down, her hair bouncing around her shoulders. He loves it when she has it loose like this. It reminds him of that night outside the bar, without fail, every single time. “Do you wanna go over hitters again tonight or tomorrow?”

He pauses for a second while he thinks about how late it’ll be when they get to the hotel in Phoenix, and how dangerous it would be if he was alone with her in a hotel room while they’re both sleepy and his defenses are down. “Uh, tomorrow’ll probably be best. It’ll be late when we get there, so I’ll probably just go to sleep.”

“Such an old man,” she teases, her grin making those dimples pop out.

“You should show your elders some respect,” he jokes.

“Yeah? You gonna punish me otherwise?” she says, then freezes as soon as her words catch up with her. 

Mike has no idea what to do. Her cheeks look flushed and her eyes are wide, and he’s acutely aware of the fact that he’s staring at her with his mouth slightly open. 

His dick starts to perk up, his jeans painfully restrictive as he tries to unobtrusively shift and adjust himself.

“Here we go!” Ev’s voice is loud in the thick silence, and both he and Baker whip their heads around to look at her, with an expression that he’s sure makes them look guilty. Ev shifts her gaze between them both, her look calculating, but in a flash it’s gone. “Everything good?” she asks, putting dishes down in the middle of the table, her eyes flicking towards Baker.

“Yup,” Baker says quickly, and it’s such an obvious lie that Mike can barely prevent the urge to drop his head down onto the table and bang it repeatedly. There’s no way Ev isn’t going to pick up on it; she’s a good mother, spotting lies is one of her many superpowers.

“Mmhmm,” she says, clearly not believing a word. “Ginny, why don’t you come and help me carry the last few things out while Blip’s getting the boys’ bags.”

Baker looks like she’d rather face a firing squad and Mike doesn’t blame her. She reluctantly gets out of her chair and follows Ev back into the house, and it’s only because of the shade of the awning that he can see through the glass doors as Ev grabs Baker’s arm and practically jumps up and down.

Mike’s not sure what, exactly, Ev knows… but he’d put good money on Baker having spilled about that night outside Boardner’s. Which probably means that Blip knows something too. He’s not sure why, but he gets the feeling that Ev is plotting something. Either way, there’s nothing he can do about it, so he puts it out of his mind. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and plays around on Twitter for a few minutes, glad that his dick has decided it’s going to start behaving again so he doesn’t have to keep shifting in his seat to get comfortable. He briefly looks up when the boys appear in the doorway to say goodbye, but he barely gets chance to respond before they’re running off.

Mike vaguely remembers a time when he had that kind of energy.

His attention is drawn back to his phone when it buzzes in his hand; it’s a text from Sonny.

_Don’t forget drinks 2moro night for Duarte bday_

Shit. He _had_ forgotten. He has a shirt and some jeans in his bag anyway; he always packs something just in case the guys wanna go out for a beer, so at least he’s covered. Mike’s not particularly looking forward to celebrating Duarte’s birthday, but he’s trying to make an effort with him. There’s been some improvement in his behavior on Duarte’s behalf, so Mike’s been trying to go easy on him.

Blip steps out onto the patio with two bottles of beer in his hand, and he passes one over to Mike before sitting down opposite him. “Where are the girls?” he asks as he leans over the table to grab a chip from one of the bowls Ev had brought out earlier, then dips it into some salsa.

Mike shrugs. “They should be back any minute now.”

“You get a text from Evers?”

“Yup,” he nods, copying Blip and loading a chip with salsa before stuffing it in his face.

“Hopefully Duarte won’t get too wasted; he’s starting on day two, right?”

Mike swallows and washes the food down with a swig of beer. “Uh huh,” he mutters with an evil grin, half hoping that Duarte will suffer. He’s petty, but then again he’s never claimed not to be.

Blip just raises an eyebrow at him, and Mike knows that Blip knows exactly what he’s thinking. “At least we’ll all have some fun.”

Ev picks that moment to walk back outside, Baker trailing her, both of their arms filled with more food. “Who’s having fun?”

Blip helps grab some of the dishes from his wife, while Mike helps Baker out with her own load. He tries to ignore the parallels.

“The guys are having a few drinks tomorrow night after the game for Duarte’s birthday,” Blip explains.

Ev’s eyes light up. “Oh yeah,” she says, turning to point at Baker as she walks around the table to sit in her original seat next to Mike, “you packed the dress right?”

Mike tries not to turn and stare. Baker doesn’t wear dresses often.

“Why would you wear a dress?” Blip scrunches his nose up as they all start to dig in and distribute food onto their plates.

Ev stares at her husband with an expression so neutral, that it can’t be anything but disapproving. “You might forget, but she is still a girl you know, and she’s allowed to dress up every now and then.”

Baker picks up her own beer and takes a quick pull. “Livan made me promise to wear a dress for his birthday,” she explains. “But it’ll be worth it; he’s not gonna know what’s hit him when it’s time for my birthday.”

“Speaking of dresses, what the hell is going on with you?” Blip asks, pointing the neck of his bottle straight at Mike.

He frowns. “Uh, I guess I have the ass to pull off a dress, but I don’t think my knees’d look good?”

Baker almost spits her beer out and Ev just leans over to try to check out his ass. She hums in assent, which Blip glares at her for, before he turns back to Mike.

“No, I mean you and Rach split up months ago. Where’s the parade of groupies with their short, tight dresses?”

Mike shifts uncomfortably in his seat, aware that all eyes are on him. He shrugs, running his hand down his beard. “Been there, done that.”

“So, you’re not doing the sleeping around thing?” Blip questions, frowning a little like he doesn’t really believe Mike.

“Nope, it’s not really what I’m interested in anymore.”

He can see Evelyn give Baker a look out of the corner of his eye, but he has no idea what she’s trying to convey. “So,” she begins, “you’re just waiting for the right girl to come along then?”

Mike keeps a very tight control on himself. All he wants to do is look at Baker and see what her expression is, but he knows any slight movement right now will tell Ev way more than he wants her to know.

“Something like that,” Mike says as he shrugs his shoulder.

The rest of the meal passes quickly, and the conversation turns to topics that don’t threaten to drive Mike insane, so he considers it a win on all fronts. He’s about to get up and help clear the table, when Ev suddenly speaks up and waves her phone around.

“I want a picture of us all,” she says, and once again Mike gets that feeling in his stomach; the one that says Ev is scheming.

“C’mere then, baby,” Blip says as he pulls his wife onto his lap, leaning her towards Baker. 

Ev turns towards Mike and gestures for him to move around to get in shot, so he shuffles his chair around until he’s next to Baker. Blip takes hold of Ev’s phone, mostly because he has longer arms, and holds it out in front of them, but they’re still not quite in frame.

“Squish in,” Ev says, and Mike swears there’s a hint of malicious glee in her tone. From the way Baker tenses next to him and the glare she gives her best friend, he’s not the only one to notice it. Still, he can’t kick up a fuss without making it into a whole thing, so he leans in, his side pressing into Baker’s as he slings an arm around her waist. Ev is squeezing up against Baker’s other side, pushing them both together even more, and Blip rests his head on Ev’s other shoulder as he raises the phone high enough to get a good angle.

“Ready?” Blip says, his thumb hovering over the shutter button.

In all honesty, Mike would be happy to hold this position for longer. Baker’s warm and soft against him, and her arm has fallen slightly to rest on his thigh. His arm is tight around her, his hand slipping down her waist until he’s cupping her hip, but he knows that won’t be in shot. Blip takes the photo, plus a spare just in case, and Ev seems satisfied as she stands up. She taps quickly at her phone, a tiny, terrifying smile on her face, while Mike slowly untangles himself from Baker and shifts his chair back to its original position.

His entire side feels cold without her, which is ridiculous, because they’re in San Diego at the beginning of June. Mike’s phone buzzes with a notification at the same time as both Baker’s and Blip’s, so he’s pretty certain that the picture has just made its way onto at least one social network.

“Do you guys want another drink?” Ev says, putting her phone down and starting to clear the table.

“I’m good thanks,” Mike says, already half standing ready to help her, “let me grab some of these for you.”

“Nope, you stay sitting, Blip will help.”

Blip does as he’s told and grabs the last few dishes, then follows his wife through into the house, leaving Mike alone with Baker again. He unlocks his phone to check what the notification was, and immediately sees that she’s tagged him in a photo on both Instagram and Twitter. He opens Instagram first, and his breath catches in his throat.

They look like a couple.

Baker’s face is tilted slightly towards his, his arm tight around her. Anyone looking at this picture would assume they were looking at a picture of two couples. Mike’s pretty certain the guys are gonna give them shit for this, but for some reason he can’t bring himself to care.

The tag below the image makes him smile:

_**@evysanders17** family lunch before they all abandon me! **@blipsanders @realginnybaker @mikelawson36** #padres #padresfam #gopadres _

“It’s a good picture,” Baker says quietly, her own phone in her hand.

Mike grunts in agreement, then likes the picture and leaves a comment underneath: 

_**@mikelawson36** always a pleasure to see **@evysanders17** , especially when free food is on offer_

He hears Baker snort with laughter as the comment appears, then she starts typing. He watches her out of the corner of his eye, his gaze caught on her tongue peeking out between her lips as she concentrates. Suddenly she looks up from her phone and smirks at him, then his phone vibrates in his hand. There’s a new comment that he’s been tagged in:

_**@realginnybaker** hey **@mikelawson36** , next time you try to steal food from my plate, I’m going to stab you with a fork x_

“You stole that last piece of chicken first! You knew I was about to get it, and you tried to sneak it onto your plate before I could reach it!”

Baker throws her head back and laughs loudly. “Just admit that I’ve got faster reflexes than you,” she winks at him, her dimples flashing.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond, although he’s not sure what he was going to say. His mind keeps circling around all the different ways to show her just how good his reflexes are, but Blip and Ev walk back out the door and the words die in his throat.

They spend another hour out in the backyard, relaxing and talking, before Ev offers to drive them all to the bus. It’ll mean leaving his car at the Sanders’ but they both assure him it’s not a problem, so he shrugs and agrees. Blip heads upstairs to grab his gear while Mike goes out to grab his bag from the car. They all meet out front and pile into Ev’s car, and barely thirty minutes later they’re pulling up at Petco.

A couple of the guys are already milling around, and they all nod and raise their hands in greeting when everyone gets out. Mike goes to help Blip grab the bags from the back, but he’s still close enough to overhear when Ev steps up close to Baker.

“You packed them, right?”

“What?” Baker asks, her brow furrowing as she tries to take a step back from her best friend, who’s almost plastered against her side.

Ev just gives her a look. “Those panties I told you to wear with the dress; the pink ones,” she hisses quietly, but not quietly enough, because Mike nearly chokes on his own tongue.

Both of them whip their heads around to him, while Blip slaps him on the back, blissfully unaware of the whirlwind of images running through Mike’s mind right now. There are apparently special panties. That Baker should wear with her dress.

Now is really not the best time for his thoughts to go much further in that direction.

Baker is flushed bright red, her eyes darting over to the rest of the team to make sure no one is paying any attention. Evelyn, on the other hand, looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Yes,” Baker says through gritted teeth, and it genuinely takes Mike a moment to put two and two together. She’s saying yes to Ev’s question. Buried somewhere in her bag... is a pair of pink panties.

Mike takes a deep breath and grabs his bag and Baker’s, then tilts his head towards the bus. Blip grabs his own bag and follows, and the two of them get all of their bags stowed away. As long as he can concentrate on other things, his mind won’t wander. And as long as he keeps telling himself that lie, he can try to remain sane.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s late by the time they start to land in Phoenix, and Mike’s knees are aching after the flight. If he’s being honest with himself, he knows that part of the reason he’s hurting so bad is because Baker had fallen asleep on his shoulder ten minutes in, and he hadn’t wanted to move and risk waking her. When the pilot announces their descent, he gently nudges her until she grunts at him and finally opens her eyes. As soon as she realizes that she’s basically sprawling all over him, she’s quickly awake and sitting up in her seat.

“Sorry,” she mutters, running her hand over her face to wake up more.

Mike just shrugs and shifts in his seat now that he can actually move. “It’s okay, at least you don’t snore like Javanes.”

She gives him a soft smile, but she still looks embarrassed, so he drops it, and instead looks around the rest of the plane as the guys all start waking up or taking off their headphones. Blip’s two rows back, frowning down at his phone as he quickly taps at it, and the rest of the guys are pretty spread out, so Mike thinks they might have escaped notice.

Once they’re on the ground, he follows her off the plane and through the airport until they’re all trailing onto the bus, their bags already loaded. Everyone’s pretty quiet, not unusual when most of them are in various stages of sleep-walking, so it’s a blessing that there’s only a quick journey ahead of them. 

After they pull up at their usual hotel near Chase Field, it doesn’t take long before everyone is grabbing their gear and piling into the elevators, room keys in hand, ready to track down their beds for the night. They’re all spread out across a few different floors, but it looks like Baker, Voorhies, and Evers are all on the twenty-third floor with Mike. Everyone’s still quiet as they spill out of the elevator, clearly all dying to get some decent sleep, and one by one they peel off and enter their rooms, until it’s just him and Baker walking down the corridor.

It feels like they’re walking for miles before they get to a turn, and discover that their rooms are next to each other. In their own little branch of the corridor.

All Mike can think is that they could probably make as much noise as they wanted, and no one would have a clue.

“Night then, Lawson,” Baker says, inserting her key card into the door. “See you in the morning.”

Mike grunts a goodnight and opens his own door. He has a quick shower so he feels clean again after travelling, then sets an alarm, strips down to his boxer briefs, and crawls into the bed.

He dreams of Baker bending over the bench in the dugout back at Petco, wearing only her Padres shirt and a pastel pink thong, her ass sticking into the air. She’s waiting for him to spank her, except when he tries to get close, they’re suddenly in the clubhouse, and she’s wearing a ballgown while dancing a tango with Duarte.

When he wakes up, he’s hard and frustrated. 

He already knows it’s going to be one of those days.

\---

It’s during the seventh inning that it happens.

They’ve been playing well, but it’s still a tighter game than he’d like, and it could honestly go either way at this point. Baker’s only shaken him off once so far, but she’d landed a strike with her pitch, so he’d shrugged it off. Bradley’s up at bat now and they’ve already managed two strikes, but Mike feels in his gut that he’s gonna try to bunt the next one. He puts down the signal for Baker’s curveball, only she shakes him off. He knows she wants to go with a fastball because she thinks Bradley won’t expect it, but Mike just _knows_ that it needs to be a curve.

Except Baker’s adamant that she wants to throw the fastball, so Mike finally gives in and resolves to have it out with her later.

Of course, Bradley decides to bunt it.

And because Baker apparently learned jack shit from last time, she runs after it. Mike’s off and running too, flinging his mask to the ground and ignoring the ache in his knees, but she gets to it before he does, and then the ball is flying over to first and Salvi catches it before Bradley can get safe.

But Mike doesn’t care about that. His attention is immediately on Baker, and he runs the final few feet over to her, his right hand already coming up to gently touch her arm.

“Are you okay?” Mike asks urgently, his gloved hand coming up to cup behind her shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Lawson,” she says, frowning slightly at him.

He lets out a breath, relief rushing over him that she’s not injured. But then it hits him just how reckless that move had been. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at, running after a bunt?”

“What the…” she trails off, her eyes flashing in anger at him. She brings her glove up to cover her mouth. “I think I’m trying to win this goddamn game, Lawson. Y’know, the whole reason we’re here?” 

He lets go of her and brings his own glove up. “Yeah, and what the hell happened last time, _rookie_? You know as well as I do that you shouldn’t have run for it.” Mike can see the umpire walking over, obviously wanting them to move on, so he wraps it up. “It was the wrong decision and so was waving me off, Baker; we’ll deal with this later.”

Mike turns and walks back over to the plate, trying to keep his expression neutral, but the fury is building inside him. The fact that she’d had the nerve to look angry at _him_ , when _she_ was the one that almost injured herself, makes him grit his teeth instead of turning right the fuck around and marching over to the mound to yell at her until she gets it.

He ignores the urge to put her over his knee until she learns not to risk herself.

The atmosphere between the two of them for the rest of the game is tense; the rest of the guys seem determined to make sure they stay as far apart as possible in the dugout, obviously wanting to avoid a fight, and Skip sends Butch out to close. 

Mike’s mood gets worse, and even though they end up winning, he’s still stuck on how much of a dumbass move Baker had pulled. He honestly can’t remember a time he was this furious. When it’s over, he storms into the clubhouse, the rest of the guys giving him a wide berth, rips his sweatbands from his arms and flings them into his cubby. 

She could have fucking ruined her career.

She could have permanently fucked up her arm.

But the worst part is that it’s his fault. He should have been faster. He should have gotten to the ball before she had chance to get anywhere near it.

The room goes quiet when Baker walks in, her jaw set and her stride determined as she walks over to her curtained off area. She looks pissed as hell, and Mike knows that that’s aimed at him.

He doesn’t care.

If anyone should be pissed here, it’s him. She pulled a stupid, risky move, and as her captain, it’s his job to make damn sure that she knows it.

Mike plans on confronting her as soon as they’re alone, so he can get it through her thick skull that her little stunt earlier was a dumbass mistake, except the rest of the guys don’t clear out as quickly as he wants, and Baker somehow manages to get changed faster than he’s ever known her to. Before he can say anything, she’s about to leave for the hotel, throwing a quick glare in his direction.

“Mami,” Duarte shouts up, getting both her attention and Mike’s. “One hour,” he says, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t be late.”

Baker actually smiles at him, like she didn’t just almost end everything. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

With that, she’s gone, and at least a little bit of the tension bleeds out of the few guys still in there. They all keep well away from Mike though, and soon he’s the only one left. He gets ready in stormy silence, trying to decide what to do. Should he head over to her room and get this over with before everyone meets for Duarte’s birthday, or should he wait? If he goes over there now then at least it’s done, although there’s no way that they’ll be on time for drinks.

He’s an asshole, but he’s attempting to be _less_ of an asshole, so he doesn’t wanna fuck up everyone else’s night. He’ll deal with Baker afterwards. 

Mike grabs everything he needs for his ice bath, stewing in his anger for as long as he can, before his shaking starts to get too bad. By the time he gets back to the hotel, he’s got about fifteen minutes before everyone’s meeting for drinks in the bar near the hotel, so he quickly showers and gets dressed, before meeting up with Blip and Sonny downstairs. They walk the two blocks over to the cocktail bar that’s been booked out for them and get some drinks in; the guys opt for ridiculous sounding cocktails, but Mike sticks to a beer. He doesn’t want to drink anything stronger, not when he needs to keep his head straight to deal with Baker later. 

Most of the team are already there, but he can’t see her yet. He takes a seat in one of the booths with Blip, his back to the door, but the sudden whistling and catcalling that breaks out around him makes him suddenly remember that Baker’s going to be wearing a dress.

He turns slowly, barely even able to see her through the mass of bodies swarming her; half teasing her for dressing up, half obviously drooling over her. Mike throws a glare at Robles that makes the poor guy blush and back off, and when he does, Mike finally gets a glimpse of Baker.

She’s wearing The Dress.

That black dress. From Boardner’s, last August. The one she’d been wearing when she was pressed against him from head to toe. The one that he knows she wasn’t wearing a bra with. The one she was wearing when they almost kissed.

Then, like a sledgehammer to his brain, he recalls the conversation between Ev and Baker from the day before.

She’s wearing pink panties under that dress.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when Duarte walks in, Voorhies and Melky flanking him. Baker spins around to face him, and Duarte whistles long and low at her.

“Happy birthday to _me_ ,” he waggles his eyebrows at her, and Mike scowls. Baker might be wearing a dress, but she’s still a teammate and Duarte shouldn’t be looking at her like that.

Mike ignores his own hypocrisy.

“Fuck off,” Baker says without any heat, then pulls him into a hug and just like that, Mike is right back on the edge of furious and frustrated.

The next hour is an exercise in torture. Mike slowly drinks his beer and scowls at anyone that looks like they might start a conversation with him. He should have just had it out with her before leaving the hotel, but it’s too late to do anything about that now. Instead, he has to sit there and watch as Duarte flirts with her and Robles practically crawls on the floor at her feet.

When Javanes pulls her up to dance with him, then Duarte pins her between them, he damn near crushes the bottle in his hand.

It’s not long before Baker begs off, saying she’s tired and wants to get some shut eye, and Mike sees his opportunity. He’s by her side in a flash. “I’m about to head out, too, so I’ll walk you back.”

Baker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, you’re talking to me now, are you?” she says archly. “Haven’t said a damn word to me all night, and suddenly you’re walking me back to the hotel?”

Robles, who had clearly been about to offer his services, backs the fuck off at the tension leaking out between them. Which is good, because if Mike had to glare at him one more time tonight, he’d probably burn a hole through the guy’s skull.

He doesn’t address anything Baker said. “Just get your bag and let’s go.”

She glares at him, her lips pressing tightly together, and for a split second Mike thinks she might actually take a swing at him. Instead, she walks over to one of the booths, grabs her little bag, gives Duarte another hug and wishes him happy birthday again, then she’s back by his side.

“Lead the way, old man. Wouldn’t want you to fall asleep on the walk back,” she bites out.

Mike holds the door open for her, then they start walking the two blocks back to the hotel in silence. He’s sure as shit not gonna start this conversation out in public, and by the looks of it, she wants to wait until they’re in private, too. They don’t say a word as they get to the hotel, walk through the lobby, and get in an empty elevator. He follows her down the corridor when they reach their floor, then stands beside her when she unlocks and opens her door.

She holds it open, her face completely neutral, until he walks in and she closes it behind him. Then, her eyes flash and the fury starts to show.

“Where the fuck do you get off, acting like that around everyone?” she says, walking further into the room to put her bag down on the desk. “You were being a complete asshole for no reason.”

“No reason?” he repeats back at her. “ _No reason_? Are you fucking kidding me, Baker?”

“C’mon then, Lawson. Spit it out. Start your speech,” she throws back at him, folding her arms over her chest in a way threatens to distract him, but he refuses to look away from her eyes.

“You want a speech? Fine,” he says, taking another step closer to her. “You made a monumentally fucking stupid decision today going after that bunt, and you were damn lucky that it didn’t mean the end of your career in the majors. Speech over.”

“I wasn’t ‘lucky’, you ass. I knew exactly what I was doing, and would you believe it? I was _right_. We won the game.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the game, Ginny; you could have been seriously hurt,” he yells, and they’re standing so close now that their feet are almost touching.

“Ginny?”

Mike’s mouth opens, then closes. He’s completely caught off-guard. “ _Baker_. You could have been hurt, Baker.”

“You haven’t called me Ginny since…” she trails off, her eyes dropping down to his lips, and suddenly Mike’s heart is racing for a whole different reason.

He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” he says. They’re almost as close as they were that night outside Boardner’s.

“I wasn’t trying to do something stupid, Mike,” she says softly, her gaze flicking between his eyes and lips. “I knew the angle was okay for my elbow. I’ve been putting a lot of work in, making sure my arm’s strong enough, and I knew I’d be able to make it.”

There’s a pause, but Mike can tell there’s still something she wants to say, so he stays silent.

“I didn’t want you to hurt your knees going after it,” she finally admits.

She didn’t want… Jesus, they’re both as bad as each other. “It’s not your job to worry about my knees, rook. It _is_ my job to worry about your arm, so just… don’t pull another fucking stunt like that, okay?”

Ginny finally keeps her eyes on his, and holds his gaze. “Yes, captain.”

And fuck, if that doesn’t do something to him, deep down in his gut. His cock twitches in his jeans, and he’s sure something must show on his face, because her breath catches in her throat and her tongue flicks out to wet her bottom lip.

The entire mood in the room shifts, just like that. 

“I think… I think you might need to help me learn my lesson,” she says quietly, barely more than a whisper, and Mike goes hot all over.

He digs his fingers into his thighs. “What do you suggest?” he rasps out, his throat dry. Mike doesn’t particularly remember moving, but at least one of them must have, because they’re ridiculously close. He tilts his head down until his forehead is pressing against hers, a mirror of that night back in August. It’s their only point of contact, but he can feel her _everywhere_.

“I seem to remember you telling me that you’re an ass-slapper,” she breathes out.

Mike is blindingly, painfully hard.

His breath punches out of his chest and he closes his eyes, his cock straining at the zipper of his jeans. He forces himself to open his eyes, not wanting to miss a second of looking at her. The black smudge of her eyelashes rest high on the gorgeous curve of her cheekbones, and her mouth is open, her breathing rapid.

Her lower lip is damp and lush.

Mike wonders what it tastes like.

“You want me to spank you?” he asks, his voice sounding low and rough. 

“Yeah,” she whispers against his lips.

Mike wonders if he’s too young to have a heart attack. He pulls away from her, puts a few inches between them so he can properly see her. He needs to make sure that she knows exactly what she’s asking from him.

“How much did you drink tonight?”

Ginny rolls her eyes at him, but he can see the small smile on her face. “One cocktail. I’m not drunk.”

He nods, satisfied. He’s had enough of waiting; if she wants this, then he’s damn well gonna give it to her. “Your dress is really nice.”

She frowns slightly, obviously confused at his sudden change in direction. “Thank you?”

“You should take it off; I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

Ginny freezes in place, every muscle rigid, but her face gives her away. Her eyes blink slowly, lethargically, and her lips are parted, her lower one caught on her teeth. She’s definitely aroused.

“Yeah?” she says, except Mike knows that she’s not just asking about the dress. She’s asking about _them_.

“Yeah,” he says, answering both questions.

Her hands move behind her, contorting in a way he’ll genuinely never understand, and the sound of her zipper slowly coming undone is loud in the silence of the room. Ginny hesitates for a second, then brings her hands up to her shoulders, and pushes the material until it falls.

Her dress drops to the floor.

Ginny Baker is standing in front of him, wearing a pair of black heels, dark pink lace panties, and a smile. And nothing else.

Her breasts are exactly as stunning as he’s imagined; they look like they’d fit perfectly in his hands. Her nipples are a few shades darker than her skin, and they tighten as he watches, the skin puckering and standing out.

Mike’s mouth waters as he thinks about getting his lips on her, sucking on her tits while she writhes in his lap.

“How do you want me?” she asks, and it takes Mike a solid minute to get his brain working. His first thought is that he wants her in literally anyway he can have her, but then he realizes that she means how does he want to spank her.

Fuck. His cock throbs in his jeans as he thinks about it. He’s actually going to have Ginny Baker at his mercy, and he’s expected to have working brain cells? He tears his gaze away from her endless legs and looks around the room, considering his options.

“The end of the bed?”

Ginny’s eyes run down his body until she catches on the obvious bulge in his jeans. “Yeah,” she says, one hand coming up to press low down on her belly, her fingers spreading across her skin until she’s skimming at the waistband of her panties. Mike thinks about what she’d look like if her fingers moved lower. He imagines watching her tuck her hand into her panties and start touching herself, flicking a teasing brush over her clit before pushing in and finger fucking herself.

There’s a very real chance that Mike might come in his pants before he even gets his hands on her.

When she steps out of the fabric pooled on the floor then turns to walk over to the bed, Mike gets his first glimpse of her ass. And oh fuck, he completely understands why Ev was so adamant that Ginny wear this pair of panties. He has a vague recollection of one of his groupies telling him that this style is a Brazilian cut, but all he knows for certain is that her ass looks spectacular. The fabric hugs every curve, leaving half her cheeks bare, and he wants so badly to drop to his knees and just press his face to her soft skin.

Mike trails after her, his eyes wandering over the smooth lines of her back, down to the clearly defined muscles along her thighs and calves. She’s possibly the most devastatingly beautiful person he’s ever seen. He honestly can’t believe that she’s letting him see her like this.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, looking over her shoulder at him, her pupils already blown out and he hasn’t even touched her yet. 

Mike steps in close behind her, and cups her hip with his right hand, enjoying the shiver that runs through her at the contact. He uses a feather light touch to trace the fingers of his other hand up her back, until he spreads his palm flat over her shoulder blade, then he takes a final step forward until he can grind his erection against her ass.

“You have no idea,” he rumbles into her ear, scraping his beard over the curve of her neck and across her shoulder.

“ _Mike_ ,” she breathes out, her whole body starting to tremble, “please, please…”

When she trails off, Mike lets his hand on her hip slip between them until he’s cupping her ass, then he squeezes, feeling his cock leap in his shorts. “Please what?” he asks.

“Please... slap my ass, _captain_ ,” she says, and Mike can hear the grin in her voice at the end. His hips mindlessly thrust against her, his reaction to be called that painfully obvious.

Mike gently pushes at her shoulder blade, his other hand back on her hip to steady her, as he encourages her to bend over. She takes the hint quickly. Ginny drops her hands down onto the bed and rests on them as she folds over, her ass sticking into the air.

He takes a step back so he can try to regain some control, and just watches her for a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, Ginny.”

Even if he couldn’t hear the soft moan she lets out, the way she rolls her hips backwards gives away how much she likes that. Slowly, she spreads her legs, the stance giving her a better foundation and making her steadier, especially in her heels, but it also means he can see the dark, damp patch over the crotch of her panties.

She’s wet.

Her cunt is soaking through her underwear.

Mike presses a hand against the bulge in his jeans and squeezes gently, gripping his cock and adjusting himself. He’d be a lot more comfortable without his jeans on, but he already knows that he wouldn’t be able to keep control long enough to give her what she needs before he’d end up deep inside her, fucking her hard and fast.

And he _really_ wants to give her what she needs.

“You’re so wet, Ginny,” he says, bringing his hand up to rest on the curve of her ass, his thumb brushing against the crease between her cheek and thigh. “Are you wet because of me?”

“Yes,” she admits softly, arching her hips further into him.

Mike groans quietly in the back of his throat, then lifts his hand and lightly smacks her right ass cheek. Her skin is so warm against his palm, and the hitching gasp she makes drives him utterly crazy. He smacks her again, a little harder and slightly further down, right on the curve.

He stares as her flesh bounces under the hit.

He does it again. And again. Mike places his other hand at the very base of her spine, helping her to stay balanced. He varies the speed and force, and switches between cheeks, but he keeps his focus entirely on Ginny, looking for any sign that she needs him to stop.

Her moans, high and breathy, and the way she arches into his hand, tells him everything he needs to know. But when she moans loudly on a particularly hard smack and tells him to keep going, he loses any doubts he had.

She’s loving this.

“How long have you wanted this, Ginny?” he asks as he places a lighter hit right to the top of her left thigh. The damp patch over her pussy is getting bigger, and Mike’s back to wondering if he actually could get her to drip down her thighs; what had seemed like a wild fantasy back when he’d first thought about this, could actually become a reality.

“Since… ah, since the first time you slapped my ass,” she pants out, moaning as he spanks her again. “But then, fuck, it’s been all I can think about since you said you’d put me over your knee.”

Mike grunts, low in his chest, and gently strokes his hands against her cheeks, soothing the reddened skin. “I’ve been the same,” he admits. “I’ve been dreaming about this. About you.”

“Why the fuck did we wait this long?” she says, rolling her hips to press her ass further into his hands.

“Hey, I was just waiting for you to give me a sign,” he huffs out, trailing his fingertips along the lacy edge of her panties.

Ginny twists around slightly to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes are bright, her face flushed, and her lips look like she’s been biting them. “Consider this your sign,” she says.

Mike keeps eye contact with her as he follows the line of her panties down, then runs his thumb lightly over the wet fabric covering her pussy. She shivers and gasps, her mouth dropping open as she tries to catch her breath.

“Stand up,” he says, taking a step backwards to give her room to move. It takes her a moment, her legs shaking slightly, but then she stands up straight and turns around to face him. “Take your heels off.”

Ginny arches an eyebrow at him. “You’re very bossy,” she says tartly as she kicks her heels off and sinks down about three inches.

Mike smirks. “Have you just met me?” he retorts, standing on the backs of his own shoes so he can kick them off without breaking eye contact with her. He pushes his socks off, too.

“Next time,” she says, stepping in until she’s pressing against him, her breasts crushed against his chest and her hands coming up to his shoulders, “I’m in charge.”

He wraps one arm around her waist, his hand spreading out over the small of her back, his little finger tucking into the waistband of her panties, then brings his other up to push her hair back from her face and cup her cheek. “We’ll see,” he murmurs, then drops his head down to kiss her.

Every single cheesy cliche he’s ever heard of, every time someone has claimed the earth stood still or fireworks went off when they kissed someone… he gets it. He used to think they were full of shit. He’s always been a good kisser and he enjoys it. Loves it, in fact. But there’s never been That Moment, so he figured it was just cheesy bullshit.

It isn’t. 

Her lips are soft but firm and when she opens her mouth to touch her tongue to his, an honest to god spark shoots straight down his spine. 

“Ginny,” he groans into her mouth, pulling her even tighter into him and grinding his painfully hard cock into her hip. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, tell me you have a condom with you.”

She pulls away, her bottom lip wet and shiny, and shakes her head. “Shit, I wasn’t exactly… I wasn’t planning on needing one. Don’t you have one?”

He hangs his head slightly, disappointment rocking through him. “Nope. Haven’t carried one around with me in months.”

Ginny’s hands come up to his face, her fingers scratching at his beard and making him moan quietly, then she tilts his head until he looks her in the eye again. “I’m on the pill.”

“You’re on the…” Mike trails off, then his brain catches up and he realizes what she’s saying. “You still want to carry on?”

“I’m clean, and I’m assuming you are, too,” she says, and Mike nods dumbly, his brain not fully accepting what she’s saying. “Yeah, Mike, I still want to have sex with you.”

Fuck. His cock had started to soften when he thought the night was over, but he’s rock hard and throbbing in his jeans again now. She wants him. She wants him to fuck her bare.

His mouth is back on hers in a flash, kissing her hard, practically biting at her lips. She gives as good as she gets, licking her tongue into his mouth and hooking her thigh around his hip so she can grind against his cock.

Mike honestly thinks that he might die. Surely there’s no way he actually gets to have this, to have _her_.

“Love you, Ginny,” he mutters, his hands trailing down to grab at her ass and squeeze gently, trying to be careful in case she’s sore.

She breaks the kiss and looks at him, her eyes wide and a little panicky.

Shit.

He readies himself to let go of her the second she looks like she needs him to back off. “You don’t need to say anything back,” he says quickly, “that’s not… that’s not why I said it.”

“No, I know, I just…” Ginny takes a deep breath, “I didn’t know that you… that you felt the same.” She kisses him again, grinning against his mouth. “I love you, too.”

There’s a flurry of movement as Mike wraps his arms around her again, kissing her desperately as she tries to get the buttons of his shirt unfastened, but they keep getting in each other’s way.

“Hang on, hang on,” he mutters, breaking away from her and nudging her hands away so he can undo the buttons himself, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as soon as he’s done. Her fingers scratch down his bare abdomen, making him twitch and huff out a moan, before she hooks her fingers in his belt and starts to work it open.

Mike watches her work, his eyes darting everywhere, from her hands near his crotch up to her pert, perfect tits… and down to the panties she’s still wearing. He’s about to do something about that, when Ginny manages to get his belt out of the way and the button of his jeans popped open, then tucks her hand inside his pants and wraps her fingers around his cock.

“ _Fuck_.”

“That’s the idea,” Ginny whispers as she leans in and nuzzles her face against his, her nose brushing his beard. “Shit, you’re big.”

His cock twitches in her grip, and Mike can’t wait anymore. He pulls her hand out of his boxer briefs and quickly pushes his jeans and underwear down, stepping out of them and immediately reaching for her panties, getting them off her as quickly as possible.

Now they’re both naked.

“God, look at you,” Mike says, completely awestruck. He wants to touch her everywhere, spend hours eating her out and driving her crazy, but there’s no way in hell he’s gonna be able to hang on long enough for that. He’s already dripping pre-come down his length; he’s not gonna be able to hold off his orgasm if he gets his mouth on her right now.

Ginny looks just as desperate as he feels, her eyes caught on his cock, twitching and flexing at the thought of touching her.

“I don’t want you to judge me for how ridiculously quick our first time is going to be,” he says, wrapping his arms around her and lifting, enjoying the slight squeak she makes in surprise, but enjoying the way she wraps her legs around his hips even more. His cock is sliding against the slickness of her cunt, and it almost makes his eyes roll back in his head. “Fuck, this is going to be horrifically fast.”

“You can make it up to me next time,” Ginny says, burying her hands in his hair and kissing him.

Mike keeps a steady hold on her and climbs up onto the bed, knee walking into the middle.

“Wait, Mike!” Ginny flails, like she’s trying to take her weight off him. “Your knees!”

“Fuck my knees,” Mike snorts out, laying her on the bed underneath him. “Duarte is starting tomorrow.”

“That’s an excellent point,” Ginny grins, pulling him down on top of her and reaching down to grab his ass. “In that case, we should have really fast, terrible sex.”

“Hey, I never said it’d be terrible,” he says, leaning his weight onto his left forearm so he can trail his right hand down her body. His fingers brush down the side of her breast, causing goosebumps to raise up in his wake and her nipples to pucker even more, then slide down her waist and over her hip. He cups her mound, his breath catching in his throat at how goddamn wet she is, then he dips two fingers between her lips. “God, you’re so hot and wet.”

“Don’t tease me, Mike,” she arches her back as he circles her clit, and brings her thighs up to hook around his waist, her heels resting on his ass. “I’m ready, just fuck me, please.”

Mike’s forehead thunks down onto her shoulder as he tries not to rut against her hip. She’s definitely trying to kill him. He reaches for his cock, steadying himself as he lines the head of his dick up with her entrance, but he pauses for a second, needing to be certain that she’s ready for this.

“Ginny, are you su--”

“Yes,” she cuts him off, “I’m sure, Mike. Now c’mon; let’s have the most underwhelming and unsatisfying sex of our lives so we can get it over with.”

He laughs, his eyes meeting hers, her joy shining back out at him. “Here’s to getting it over with, then.”

She grins at him as he starts to push into her, moving slowly because fuck, even though she’s wet, she’s still pretty tight. Her mouth drops open in a gasp as her eyes close and her head tilts back, and he can’t resist the tempting offer in front of him. He keeps his hips moving steadily forward while he leans down and licks a long, wet line up her throat, ending with a sucking kiss just under her jawline.

“ _Mike_ , fuck,” she moans as he fills her, “oh, _fuck me_.”

“I am,” he whispers into her skin, dragging his beard over her sensitive throat. She makes a high, breathy sound, that Mike will swear to his dying day is a whimper. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m inside you right now.”

“Tell me about it,” she sighs, moaning loudly when he pulls his hips back and pushes in again, faster this time, “I’ve got Mike Lawson’s huge dick inside me.”

“Yeah?” he teases, thrusting inside her again, purposefully not keeping any kind of rhythm. “You must be a very lucky girl.”

Her laugh sounds magical, and the fact that it makes her clench around him makes it possibly his favorite sound in the world. “Oh yeah,” she agrees. “You hanging in there okay, old man?”

“I’m living my best life right now, don’t worry about me.”

“God, c’mon,” she says, digging her heels into his ass and rocking her hips up into him, “you promised me horrifically fast and so far you’re not delivering.”

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be?” Mike laughs at her teasing look, feeling completely floored with how much he loves this frustrating, gorgeous, annoying woman in front of him. When she hums a confirmation at him, he decides that all bets are off. “Okay, horrifically fast and underwhelming sex it is.”

He shifts his weight again so he can hook his left arm underneath her right thigh, pulling her leg up until her knee is almost touching her chest, then adjusts slightly so that her calf is resting on his shoulder. Mike can already feel himself slide even deeper into her, and they both moan quietly at the sensation. He keeps her other leg wrapped around his hip, then plants his hands on either side of her shoulders and meets her gaze.

“You sure this is what you want?”

“Yeah,” she says, one hand sliding around the back of his head to card her fingers into his hair, “this is exactly what I want.”

He smiles softly at her, then rolls his hips back and fucks into her, hard and fast. He doesn’t hesitate, he just keeps going, thrusting into her over and over, his hips slamming into hers. Every stroke hitches a breathy gasp out of her throat, but he’s honestly not going to last much longer. He can already feel his orgasm building in the base of his spine. The wet heat of her cunt around him is too much for him to take, but he doesn’t want to just leave her hanging.

Mike rests his weight onto his left forearm, her leg slipping off his shoulder, and slides his right hand between them, swiping his fingers over her clit. She groans loudly and grabs at him, her fingers digging into his shoulders to get enough purchase to grind up into him. He keeps thrusting into her, his hips already starting to stutter, but he ducks his head down until he can reach her breast. He mouths across her soft curves until he can suck her nipple between his lips.

“Almost… I’m, _fuck_ , almost there,” she cries out, her pussy gripping him tight as she starts to tremble beneath him. 

Mike gently scrapes her nipple between his teeth as he frantically thumbs her clit, and suddenly Ginny’s falling apart in his arms. She practically wails as she arches into him, and her inner muscles flutter around his cock. It’s too much, the heat and the pressure, the look of bliss on her face as she slowly comes down from her high, and he pushes into her hard, trying to get as deep as possible as he comes inside her.

She’s still shaking around him, practically milking him as he shallowly thrusts into her, his orgasm pulsing through his body as he fills her up. Ginny runs her hands up his neck and pets lazily at his beard, gently tugging him up from her breast until she can reach his mouth. She kisses him softly and leisurely, her tongue sliding against his, as they just hold each other.

“You good?” he murmurs against her lips.

“Oh yeah,” she breathes, lowering her legs as he carefully moves his hips back and pulls out of her.

“So… did we manage to achieve fast and terrible?” he asks as he rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms around her.

Ginny rolls onto her side too and curls into his chest. “Definitely. Worst sex I’ve ever had.”

“In that case, we should rest up and try again in the morning,” Mike grins and presses a kiss to the top of her head, pushing her hair out of her face for her.

“I am _very_ glad that neither of us are starting tomorrow,” Ginny laughs, propping herself up on an elbow and dropping a chaste kiss on his lips. “C’mon, we need to clean up then we can get some sleep.”

Mike grunts at her, not wanting to get up off the bed. “Can’t we just fall asleep now?”

She gives him a pointed look. “Unless you want me to end up covered in your come as it drips out of me, we need to go clean up.”

He feels like she punched him in the gut, like all the breath has been knocked out of him, and they both glance down as his mostly soft cock twitches hard.

“Okay…” she breathes out, her eyes looking hungry again, “that’s definitely something we’re going to come back to another time.”

Mike nods dumbly. “Yeah, yeah we should definitely come back to that idea.”

Ginny rolls her eyes at him fondly and pushes herself off the bed, walking on shaky legs over to the en suite, her ass a dull red that makes him twitch all over again. “Don’t fall asleep until after you’ve cleaned up,” she warns him, then closes the door behind her while she gets herself sorted first.

Mike stretches out across her bed, various aches and pains making themselves known across his body, but the grin plastered across his face remains. He doesn’t regret the trade falling through anymore. He knows, deep down, that it wouldn’t have worked out; both with the Cubs and if he and Ginny _had_ started something back then. It’s not exactly gonna be easy now. They’re most likely gonna have to hide this from everyone, and there will probably be pretty heavy consequences if they’re discovered…

...but he doesn’t regret a second of how everything has turned out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that the authors have been revealed... feel free to say hi on [tumblr](http://oddlyfamiliar.tumblr.com/)!


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